


Supernatural One Word Bingo

by cutelittlekitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, spnonewordbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16769737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/pseuds/cutelittlekitty
Summary: err... Supernatural one word bingo fics.  title kinda says that already though :D  I plan to try to keep them all under 500 words each. Of course, we all know, the best laid plans of cutelittlekitties and men are often consumed by marshmallows and thrown into the multiverse.





	1. Television

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life at the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @spnonewordbingo - Television  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** voyeurism, humor  
>  **Pairings:** none (Destiel & Sabriel hints though)  
>  **Characters:** Sam Winchester, Gabriel  
>  **Summary:** A day in the life at the bunker. (400 words)

Sam rubs at his damp hair with the towel draped across his shoulders as he heads back toward his room, another white towel fastened securely around his hips. The sound of fingers snapping has him stopping in his tracks, bending backward far enough to peek through an open doorway. Gabriel is sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking across the room at something Sam can’t quite see from this angle. Backtracking until his tall frame fills the doorway, he rests a shoulder against the door frame and leans in enough to see the big, old, black-and-white television the archangel had found somewhere in the bunker and placed in his room.

“You know, Gabriel, we could get you a new TV. With color? And a remote? Netflix?” he suggests when the angel snaps his fingers again and the picture on the screen flickers and changes.

“Nah, I’m good. Wanna watch with me?” Gabriel asks, scooting over to make room beside him on the bed.

“Dude. It’s black and white,” Sam protests.

“Doesn’t make it any less hot,” Gabriel shrugs with a smirk.

“What exactly are you watching?” Sam asks, moving a little closer to make out the fuzzy images on the screen that he hadn’t given any attention to before. “What the hell! Is that Cas? And Dean!?! What the fuck, no, we _eat_ on that table,” Sam exclaims, clapping a hand over his eyes the minute he deciphers the scene. “Gabriel, please tell me this is something you just made up?”

“If you want me to lie, sure,” the archangel replies, smile evident in his voice as he snaps his fingers once more. “You can look now. I like this channel better anyway.”

Half afraid of what he’s going to find on the screen, Sam peeks through his fingers. Seeing nothing but an empty shower room he lets his hand fall from his eyes, then does a double-take. That’s the bunker’s shower room. Disbelieving gaze turning from the television to the angel on the bed, Gabriel’s shit-eating grin and wriggling eyebrows answer his unspoken question.

Cheeks red, the archangel’s laughter chases Sam down the hall and into his room where he slams the door shut and leans against it. He’s almost talked himself out of his embarrassment when the thought hits him. If Gabriel can see what’s going on in the kitchen and showers, where else is he spying?


	2. Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another day in the life at the bunker. (400 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **@spnonewordbingo - Artist**  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** exhibitionism, humor  
>  **Pairings:** none (Destiel & Sabriel hints though)  
>  **Characters:** Sam Winchester, Gabriel  
>  **Summary:** another day in the life at the bunker (400 words)

“Dean, are you- Woah, _Not_ Dean!” Sam exclaims, stopping short as he claps a hand over his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Samster. Don’t mind me, I’m just having a painting done,” Gabriel tosses off casually.

“So many questions; I don’t even know where to start,” Sam groans, wondering why they ever invited the archangel to stay at the bunker until he felt safe enough to leave.

“You could start by taking your hand off your eyes. It’s not like I’m naked,” Gabe comments. It’s true; he’s reclined on a cushioned bench in front of a bookcase, right leg stretched out, the other bent with his left wrist resting atop his knee, torso propped up by his right forearm. The lighting has his hair glowing like ripened wheat and makes his honey-eyes shine.

“I wouldn’t say that little scrap of burgundy velvet cloth draped over your hips counts as clothed,” Sam counters.

“Got that good a look at my bare abs and angelic bod before you got around to covering your eyes, did you?” Gabe smirks as Sam huffs out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, though he pointedly avoids looking at the archangel. “Didn’t you say something about questions?” Gabriel reminds the hunter, eyebrows wriggling.

“Yeah, several. First off, have you seen Dean?”

“Not since breakfast.”

“And you don’t know where he is?”

“I do; you didn’t ask that,” Gabe chuckles. “He and Cas were leaving for a hunt.”

“Ok, secondly, why are you posing, practically nude, in the library, for a painting?”

“It’s the best background in the bunker,” Gabriel replies.

“Right. Of course. Well then, third question, shouldn’t you be doing that somewhere like a studio? This isn’t a five-star hotel. You can’t just have people over whenever you want without even asking. It’s supposed to be a _hidden_ bunker.”

“No worries there, Samshine,” the artist replies, stepping out from behind the easel.

“I just cloned myself,” Both Gabriels say in unison.

Sam’s jaw drops, too stunned for several long moments to even register that the second Gabriel has on less clothing than his mostly-nude model. Which is to say, none. Eventually his jaw starts working, and a minute or two after that his voice kicks in too. “That… you… I can’t even… I’m too sober for this,” He stammers, turning to flee to the relative safety of the war room and Dean’s emergency bottle of whiskey.


	3. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another day in the life at the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **@spnonewordbingo - 03 - Flowers**  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** humor? Maybe a touch of angst?  
>  **Pairings:** none (Sabriel hints though)  
>  **Characters:** Sam Winchester, Gabriel  
>  **Summary:** another day in the life at the bunker (400 words)

Sam takes his lunch to the ‘Dean Cave’, or whatever ridiculous name his brother is calling it this week, thinking he can maybe watch that documentary on the Salem Witch Trials that’s been in his Netflix queue for far too long. But his plans are derailed by the bright yellow daisies scattered all over the coffee table and the archangel sitting on the couch.

“Gabriel… tell me those aren’t the flowers Eileen sent me?” Sam sighs, setting his plate and water on the side table and sinking into the oversized, plaid patterned armchair that Dean insists is awesome. 

“Ok… these aren’t the flowers Eileen sent you,” Gabriel replies, arching an eyebrow at Sam while picking up another daisy to braid into the circlet he’s making.

“Gabriel, that’s crossing the line. Those were _my_ flowers; you can’t just take them,” Sam complains with a frown. It had been very nice of Eileen to send them, especially since she’d had to go through extra trouble to get them to him, which had involved convincing Sam’s favorite local diner to accept delivery and give them to Sam the next time he came in. One of the downsides to living in a hidden bunker; no mail service.

“Samster, I just told you they aren’t your flowers,” Gabriel repeats.

“Right, because I told you to tell me that. Screw this; I’m going to eat in my room.”

“Hold on a sec,” Gabe says, jumping up before Sam has fully risen from his chair and placing the completed crown of daisies over Sam’s perfectly groomed hair. “I was making it for you, dumbass,” he smirks before disappearing, along with the few remaining flowers from the table.

Sam refuses to feel guilty for yelling at the archangel. His brain refuses to accept his refusal. Sighing, he picks up his lunch and heads to his room. Now that Gabriel has left the ‘Fortress of Dean-a-tude’ or whatever, he could have stayed and watched his show on the big screen. But he’s not in the mood to be in one of the bunker’s communal areas now. Actually, he isn’t in the mood for his documentary either. Frowning, he continues into his room, setting his plate of food and bottle of water on the dresser so he can move his lamp and the vase of daisies to make room for his food on the nightst...a...n… Shit. He should probably apologize.


	4. Fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @spnonewordbingo - 04 - Fries  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** humor?  
>  **Pairings:** none (Sabriel hints though)  
>  **Characters:** Sam Winchester, Gabriel  
>  **Summary:** another day in the life at the bunker (400 words)

“Gabriel…” Sam begins, watching the archangel pop a fry into his mouth without looking as he pours over the huge tome before him.

“Hmm?” Gabriel replies, turning a page.

“You do know that’s a priceless book, right?”

“Sure do, Samster. Pretty good one, too. At least a quarter of this isn’t completely back-assward.”

“Since it’s a ‘pretty good book’, think you could try, I don’t know, maybe _not_ handling it with greasy fry fingers?” Sam suggests, struggling to keep his temper. Being left behind to do research used to be great. Sam loved spending time learning the secrets vaulted in the bunker for decades. Now, with Gabriel here, Sam just feels frustrated and cooped up. Not that he begrudges the guy- angel for wanting a safe place to stay, though he’s already blasted Asmodeus to atoms. But Gabriel seems scared to be alone. Dean and Cas have been gone weeks and Sam’s going stir crazy. Only with the promise of a strawberry shake and two cherry pies had the archangel let Sam leave him alone long enough to grab groceries and fast food.

“Sam, what kind of philistine do you think I am? I would never treat a book like that. Unless it’s something like _The Art of the Deal_ or _Twilight_ ,” Gabriel adds with a shudder. “If a book isn’t good, I wouldn’t waste my time reading it, let alone use archangel powers to keep it clean,” he says, running his fingers over Sam’s arm so the hunter can feel the lack of grease.

Frowning, Sam leans over and examines the pages, turning a few before flipping back to where the archangel left off. Apparently Gabriel is telling the truth; there aren’t any grease spots.

“Y’know, you’re welcome to read over my shoulder. Or maybe I could sit on your lap and you can read it to me?” the archangel teases.

“Need a glass of water to go with that bedtime story?” Sam asks, sitting back.

“Nah, but maybe some milk to go with these pies,” Gabe grins.

“You know where the fridge is,” Sam replies, reaching for his fries and finding them gone. “Gabriel, have you-”

Wordlessly, the archangel grabs his own fries from his right and sets them beside the empty container between them.

“Why have you been eating my fries?” Sam demands.

“Yours taste better,” Gabriel grins, jumping up and heading into the kitchen for milk.


	5. Map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @spnonewordbingo - Map  
>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** humor and sweetness  
>  **Pairings:** none (Sabriel hints)  
>  **Characters:** Sam Winchester, Gabriel  
>  **Summary:** Another day in the life at the bunker. (400 words)

Entering the war room, coffee in hand, Sam frowns at Gabriel, who’s bent over the map table with a large marker.

“Don’t worry, Samster, it’s not permanent,” the archangel says as Sam draws breath to speak. Tossing over the marker, he picks up another and goes back to the map.

Examining the marker in his hand, Sam sees it’s dry-erase. “Planning a trip?” he asks.

“Yep. Hmm, Monaco… nice, but probably not a good idea. What do you think, Sammy? Where would be a nice, romantic place to spend a few days? Maybe somewhere with a beach?” Gabe asks, leaning over to put a green question mark over Barcelona, spain.

“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never had a vacation,” Sam shrugs, tossing the red back to Gabriel, who uses it to put an X over Greece and Turkey. 

Noting Sam’s raised eyebrow, Gabriel gives a shrug of his own. “Trojan wars. More than enough time there,” he says, tapping the end of the marker against his lip then adding a big X over the Bahamas. “Too hot, too much crime.”

“Wouldn’t think you’d worry about human crime,” Sam comments, wondering if the archangel is ready to get back out into the world. If he’s worried about humans, maybe not.

“It’s not a problem, per se, just wouldn’t want the intimate getaway interrupted by a trip to the police station.”

“Gabriel… who exactly are you planning on taking this romantic trip with?” Sam frowns.

Looking over at Sam, Gabriel grins. “Why, jealous?” he asks, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Of course not,” Sam huffs, wondering why his cheeks feel warm.

“No worries, Samster, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’re planning a trip?”

Gabriel looks up at Sam, shaking his head in disappointment. “How long have we known each other, yet you still know nothing about me? I never make plans, I just go where the wind takes me. Nope, this trip is for Cassie and Dean; they’ve been working too hard. Just want to make sure I find the perfect place to whisk them off to.”

Focusing a scrutinizing gaze on the archangel, Sam examines him for several long moments, then moves next to him, pointing to the long island off the eastern coast of china.

“Japan? Really?” Gabriel asks, then laughs at the pointed look Sam gives him. “You’re right, Dean’ll love it. And Cassie’ll love that Dean loves it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okies, after this i'll be posting these 400 word ficlets 5 at a time so I don't spam anyone and I don't wind up with a zillion chapters :D and I really hope to get the next chapter of life of a couple finished and posted soon


	6. 06 - 10  Scarf, Fountain, Mosaic, Heart, Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** silly squabble, humor?, sweet fluff, more fluff, first date  
>  **Pairings:** Destiel  
>  **Characters:** Dean Winchester, Castiel  
>  **Summary:** Five days in the lives of Dean and Cas (400 words per ficlet)

Scarf

“Dean, why not?” Cas asks, following Dean into the bunker’s kitchen.

“You’re not my mom; quit nagging me,” Dean grouses as he fills his travel thermos with hot coffee.

“Of course I’m not; your mother is in heaven. You know that,” Cas replies, brows furrowed.

“Then why am I being mothered?” Dean growls, heading to the snack cupboard for some road food.

Cas sighs heavily. “Dean, I just don’t want you getting sick. For some reason you refuse to let me heal you of colds; apparently you prefer misery. Last time, you complained for weeks.”

“I almost never get sick,” Dean retorts, rapping his knuckles against one of the wooden shelves a couple times before pulling out a few bags of jerky and chips. Not that he’s superstitious. Well, he is, but not about stupid stuff.

“And when you do, you make up for it,” Cas complains, crossing his arms over his chest, the item in contention still in his right hand.

Sam stops short as he enters the kitchen, taking in the stubborn looks on both men’s faces, then frowning down at his empty coffee cup. Looking longingly back the way he came, then over to the coffee pot Dean just emptied, he sighs and trudges into the room to make a fresh pot. “What’re you two arguing about now?” he asks, knowing he’ll be hearing about it whether he wants to or not.

“He’s treatin’ me like a freakin’ kid,” Dean grumbles, tossing the food into a bag with more force than necessary and grabbing his thermos.

“If you didn’t act like a child, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” Cas counters. “Sam, you know what he’ll be like if he catches a cold. You’re on my side on this, right?”

Looking at the item dangling from the angel’s hand, Sam bursts out laughing. “You can nag him ‘til you’re blue in the face; it’s never gonna happen. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

‘Fine,” Cas frowns, stepping back and letting Dean lead the way to the impala which is idling in front of the bunker, ‘warming up’.

Sam watches them leave for their hunt, then picks up the scarf Cas had thrown onto the table in frustration. It’s black, grey, and red plaid, a silhouette of a car on each end. Cas obviously put some thought into it. Too bad Dean wouldn’t be caught dead in a scarf.

Fountain

Dean grins as he and Cas pull up to the motel. Unlike the usual dives, this place has a pool. Sure, it’s not private, but as long as they don’t spunk up the chlorinated water, they should be able to do a bit of making out while submerged. Putting Baby in park, Dean climbs out, Cas doing the same on the passenger side. Dean heads for the office, smiling at Cas who falls into step by his side.

“Pool’s only open ‘til midnight,” the clerk informs Dean as he hands over the key to their room. “Gotta wear trunks, no horseplay, and no sex in the pool. This here’s a fam’ly establishment,” he adds, grin widening enough to show a missing tooth as a scantily-clad, giggling woman walks past, draped over a man’s arm while she tucks a few bills into her bra.

“Of course. Classy,” Dean grins, giving the clerk a nod before turning to lead Cas to their room. Once there, Dean begins pulling his clothes off before Cas even has the door closed.

“No foreplay?” Castiel asks as his fingers go to his own shirt, unfastening buttons hastily and stepping out of his shoes.

“What?” Dean asks, chest bare as he kicks off his pants.

“You’re disrobing. That usually indicates you want to have sex, but we haven’t yet engaged in fore-”

“Dude, Cas, no! We’re gonna hit the pool before it closes,” Dean huffs, rolling his eyes as he pulls the pairs of swim trunks he’d packed out of his duffel. “Here, put these on,” he says, tossing the blue and black pair to Cas as he puts on his own green and black ones in the same style.

Brows knitting, Castiel pulls on the garment and follows Dean through the back door in their room. Sitting on the edge of the pool, he watches Dean dive in, frolicking in the water and splashing the angel.

“Hey, Cas, look! I’m a fountain!” Dean laughs, gulping a huge mouthful of water and spitting it in an arc that sparkles in the floodlights illuminating the pool.

“Yes, Dean, You’re very talented. Did you want me to tell you what percentage of that water is urine?” Cas asks innocently.

The fountain falters as Dean splutters, quickly ejecting the remaining pool water. Climbing out, he heads back to the room. Somehow he’s not in the mood for swimming anymore.

Mosaic

“Cas, we’ve got a case,” Dean says, opening the door, walking into the angel’s room without bothering to knock.

Castiel jumps up from his desk and spins around, brows furrowed. “Dean. Isn’t it human custom to knock before entering another’s room?”

“Not between lovers,” Dean grins..

“I’m fairly certain that’s not true, Dean,” Castiel frowns.

“Does it even matter? You aren’t actually human anyway,” Dean replies flippantly before leaving.

Sighing, Cas turns back to the desk, tidying it up quickly before grabbing his duffel and following.

*****

“Hey, Cas, have you seen my Zepplin tee?” Dean asks a week later, once more barging in unannounced.

“You took it off before you washed Baby the other day,” Castiel replies, huddling protectively over his desk. “Check the garage.”

“What’ve you been doing lately, anyway?” Dean asks, moving further into the room. “What’s the big secret?”

“Out!” Castiel exclaims, rising and herding his lover forcibly back through the door.

“Ok, ok, I’m going, geeze,” Dean grumbles as he heads for the garage.

*****

“You comin’ to bed tonight, Cas?” Dean asks, poking his head through the door.

“Dean, please. I’ve asked you to knock before entering. It’s frustrating that you still refuse to do so,” Castiel sighs.

“Sorry, just… you’ve been so distracted lately,” Dean frowns. 

“You are the one who taught me about personal space,” Castiel reminds him. “Is it so odd that I might want some?”

“Well, yeah, kinda.”

“I’ve just been working on something. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with you. Or have sex with you,” he says, closing the door and leading the way to Dean’s room. 

*****

“Cas, I know you’ve been busy, but… do you know what day…” Dean says through the door. He doesn’t knock, but neither does he barge in. “Nevermind.”

“Of course, Dean. January twenty-fourth. Happy birthday,” Castiel replies, gesturing Dean in to see the large mural of the impala, made of smaller pictures of Dean, Cas, Sam, and Baby, at different ages and locations, inside a poster frame sitting on the desk. Jaw hanging, Dean stares at the pictures making up the mosaic. “Sorry. It was a dumb idea. It’s okay, you don’t have to keep it.” Cas mumbles, cheeks burning.

“No! Cas… _I love it!_ ,” Dean grins.

“You don’t have to humor me,” Cas frowns from the doorway.

“Seriously, Cas, this is amazing. Best. Present. Ever.”

Heart

Dean and Cas don’t have the same non-verbal communication as Dean and Sam. Castiel knows this. That’s not to say they don’t have their own non-verbal language. But most of their unspoken communication is along the lines of, _I want to devour those lips of yours,_ or, _I’m about to fuck you so good you’ll have Sam blushing whenever he hears you say my name,_ and sometimes, _I’ve had a shitty day, can I just crawl into you until the world disappears?_ It’s great that they don’t need words to communicate the bond between them. But when it comes to hunting… the only things Dean’s eyes say to Castiel are, _I got this,_ and the much rarer _Oh, shit!_

When Dean and Sam hunt together, they can speak an entire tactical plan with a glance, a nod, and sometimes a gesture or two. There are never any miscommunications, and Dean doesn’t have to make Sam stay behind. As partners, their warrior’s dance is seamless, flawless, natural as breathing. And Cas is jealous of that. Oh, he and Dean can fight together. Very well, in fact. When their blades dance in tandem it is beauty and passion and fury and desire, and it needs no words. But when it comes to planning an assault, there’s no nod and split up, each knowing the plan. Castiel has to discuss, in quiet whispers, every detail, including why he’s not letting Dean leave him behind. And pray the enemy isn’t close enough to hear.

As it turns out, wolves, particularly of the were variety, have very sharp hearing. The one they’re tracking must peg Castiel as the weaker prey because he ambushes him after he goes left, Dean having gone right. Of course, angel strength can best a werewolf. But surprise gives the creature an opening to get Cas on his back, pinned, arm poised to strike through the angel’s chest. Gasping, Castiel tries to bring his blade to bear but his arm is pinned by a clawed hand that has weight and gravity on its side. There isn't even time to regret his mistake.

Just as the poised arm starts to move, a blade appears, point coming through the were’s chest, flesh bubbling around the silver. “That’s _**My**_ heart,” Dean growls as the creature topples sideways and off Cas.

With a declaration like that, maybe non-verbal communication isn’t so important after all.

Joy

“Dean, this really isn’t necessary,” Castiel insists as Dean pays. The cashier fastens a bright orange band around Dean’s wrist, then holds another out for Cas.

“C’mon, Cas. We’ve been workin’ our asses off. Break time. Besides, we should have a proper date. It’s not ‘necessary’, but it’s important. I promise you’ll have fun,” Dean replies, smiling. 

“But it’s expensive,” Castiel frowns.

“It’s my money,” Dean retorts. When the rides and booths had sprung up overnight, Dean had been so excited he practically dragged Cas out the door for their first ‘date’. “Which ride do you want to try first, Cas?” he asks, radiating excitement.

Looking around, Castiel wonders which of the swift-moving, creaking, squealing rides is the least dangerous. “The carousel.”

“Dude, that’s for little- nevermind. Sure. Merry-go-round it is,” Dean smiles, taking the angel’s hand and leading him over to the long line of children. 

Castiel knows Dean is humoring him so he wants to enjoy the ride, but really, what’s fun about sitting on a horse that goes up and down to old, scratchy music? But Dean actually starts having fun, teasing Cas and making jokes about him having a hard horse between his legs.

“What next?”

“Um… that one?” Castiel points to the fun house.

Dean rolls his eyes, but drags Cas over. Though the place is cheesy, Dean seems to have fun anyway, making faces in a warped mirror, balancing to walk on one of the tracks instead of shuffling across the parallel boards moving in opposite directions as Cas does, helping the 8-year-old in front of them swing across the ball pit, and challenging himself by walking backward through the rolling tube at the end while trying to kiss Cas.

Once back outside, Dean buys an elephant ear from a vendor, insisting Cas try a bite. “Tasty,” Castiel says, though letting Dean eat the rest. Molecules taste like molecules.

“Lemme win ya something,” Dean grins around a mouthful of fried sugary goodness. After strolling past every game, Dean nods to himself and heads back to the ring toss. Twenty minutes and fifty dollars later, Cas is carrying a stuffed unicorn and they’re headed for the tilt-a-whirl.

That night, looking up at the stars from the top of the ferris wheel, Castiel smiles and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder. He could take or leave the carnival, but seeing Dean alight with excitement… that was true joy.


	7. 11-15  oxygen, stars, free space, safe, tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More days in the life at the bunker. (400 words each)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fandom:** Supernatural  
>  **Rating:** Older Teen  
>  **Tags/Warnings:** life or death, visiting an old friend, freebie fives, gabriel feels (panic attack, ptsd), gabriel feels more (casual mentions of panic attack/ptsd)  
>  **Pairings:** 11-Destiel, 12-Destiel, 13-Destiel & Sabriel, 14-Sabriel, 15-Sabriel  
>  **Characters:** Dean Winchester, Castiel, Tara Benchly, Sam Winchester, Gabriel

**Oxygen**

“Cas!” Dean coughs, trying to see through the flickering light and billowing smoke. “Cas, buddy, where are you?”

“Dean,” A gravelly voice moans, the sound hard to pinpoint as it’s very muffled.

“Cas! Hang on, I’ll get you out of there!” Dean shouts, dropping onto his knees and crawling below the thickening smoke in what he hopes is the right direction. Pushing fallen walls and crackling furniture out of the way, he eventually comes to a larger pile where the ceiling came down on top of the fallen walls. Seeing something he hopes is tan cloth, Dean reaches under the smoldering boards and feels the flesh of a very firm calf. An answering cry of pain halts his exploration and Dean begins shifting refuse; charred 2x4s, frayed wiring, all sandwiched between drywall, the dust from which must have put out the burning timbers. The entire time, Dean is crying Cas’s name, over and over, and the angel is answering, though Dean’s too distraught to register more than the fact that it’s Cas’s voice and it’s talking and that means his angel is still alive.

It seems an eternity later when a soot-smudged face is finally visible, but in reality, it can’t have taken more than two or three minutes. Adrenaline has an odd effect on time, making it stretch into infinity one moment, only to have an eternity blip past the next. Though it took forever and a day to get to Cas, once Dean has the angel in his arms it takes fractions of a second for the fire to be blocking both ends of the hall’s skeleton and licking up every rib. “Cas,” Dean coughs weakly, tears stinging his eyes. Or maybe it’s the smoke stinging and the tears are a result. It doesn’t matter; there’s limited oxygen in what’s left of the room and it’s not enough for both the men and the fire to breathe. Guess who’s gonna get it? 

At the sound of a large cracking above him, Dean throws himself over Cas, protecting the injured angel with his body. The floor from the story above them comes down, plunging Dean into darkness.

*****

Dean blinks up into cool blue that soothes his burning skin. No, not burning. He grabs Cas’s glowing hand, halting his healing. “What happened?” he rasps.

“We’re safe, that’s all that matters,” Castiel replies, gentle lips covering Dean’s in desperate relief.

**Stars**

“Dean, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” Castiel frowns.

“Nah, ‘s fine. You’re the one who wanted to come,” Dean replies, adjusting the headset he’d put on before they entered, then snagging a donut from an open box atop a stack filling a passing kid’s arms. Turning around, he points toward the food table he and Cas passed and the intern gives Dean a grateful smile before hurrying off in that direction.

“But, this isn’t what I mea-”

“Hey, no worries, Cas, I know what you meant,” Dean grins, taking a huge bite of donut and leading the way like he’s been there before, knows where he’s going, and definitely belongs. Unlike Cas, who looks lost, nervous, and like someone security should be escorting out. “Oh, there she is!” the hunter exclaims around his mouthful, reaching back with his free hand to grab Cas’s, squeezing tightly. “Hey! Tara,” Dean calls -mouth clear this time- to the woman with shapely legs, loosely curled chestnut hair, and a dazzling smile reflecting from the brightly lit makeup mirror. “Got a sec?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the world’s best disappearing PA,” Tara Benchley grins, voice deep and husky. “Are you really supposed to be here?” she admonishes.

“Dean, really, this isn’t-” Castiel tries again.

“You gonna throw me out?” Dean grins back with a wink. 

Tara Laughs. “Guess I’m not. What can I do for you?”

“You know that place from last time? I was wondering if it was in use?”

“Not today, as far as I know. Why, got someone special you wanna take there? Or were you hoping for an encore?” Tara flirts.

“Not sure I’d survive another go with you. ‘Sides, my boyfriend might get jealous,” Dean replies, holding up his and Cas’s clasped hands.

“Wow. A guy that hot, I can see why you switched teams. I’ve got time, let me escort you.”

“Thanks, Tara.”

*****

“Dean, I tried to tell you, I didn’t mean _movie_ stars,” Castiel comments as they lay on a blanket in the middle of the domed movie set.

“I know,” Dean replies, squeezing his hand. “Ok, Tara, hit it.” Suddenly, the set is dark and the dome is covered in millions of twinkling stars, the clearest sky Dean has ever seen.

“That’s… wow, that’s amazing,” Castiel replies, though more impressed with human ingenuity than the beautiful stars it produced.

“Happy anniversary, Cas.”

**FreeSpace**

“Cas, I’m telling you, it’s really a thing. It’s- Sammy! Sam, please tell Cas what a freebie five is,” Dean says, seeing Sam by the coffee pot as he follows an angry Cas into the kitchen.

“Dude, no. You tell him,” Sam replies, turning from the pot with his full cup and taking a sip of the scalding liquid.

“I did. He doesn’t believe it’s an actual thing,” Dean grouses, going over to pour himself a cup.

“Fine,” Sam says, sitting at the table and waving Cas into the chair opposite his. “A freebie five is a pre-defined list of five people for each partner that the other partner agrees they can sleep with -have sex with-“ he clarifies for the angel with a grimace, “with no recriminations, in the unlikely event they ever get the chance.”

“I see. I thought Dean was making it up. However, this list is supposed to be specific people, right?” Castiel asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes, specific people by name, and they have to be on the list before you sleep with them,” Sam confirms.

“So, ‘porn stars’, being a generic term, does not count,” Castiel states, glaring pointedly at Dean.

“Right, that wouldn’t count. Like, Dean could say Steve Bacic, the actor who plays Doctor Sexy MD, but he couldn’t just say anyone from the cast of Doctor Sexy MD. And where do porn stars fit into this conversation? Why are you even talking about freebie fives?” Sam asks.

“Oh, umm… Gabriel may have suggested inviting some friends to the bunker, and I just happened to mention that ‘porn stars’ was one of my freebie fives, then Cas wanted to know what that was,” Dean blushes.

“Well, you only get one time with each person on the list, which makes this conversation moot. You already crossed ‘porn star’ off your bucket list with the chick from that pagan god’s chastity club, right Dean?” Sam points out.

Dean’s eyes glaze over, going half-lidded as a slow smile spreads over his face and he licks his lips, remembering the hot blonde. “Oh, hells yeah I did.”

“Dude, gross,” Sam complains, closing his eyes and rubbing them as though he could scrub the image of that face from his retinas.

“Hey, did I hear someone say ‘porn stars’,” Gabriel grins, wriggling his eyebrows as he saunters into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee.

**Safe**

Gabriel wanders restlessly through the bunker. It’s too quiet at night. No Sam to ~~flirt with~~ tease, no Dean to talk crap with, not even Castiel to break up the quietude since Cassie spends nights with Dean now. And there’s a twist he never saw coming. Who’d have thought an angel and a human… Well, stranger things’ve happened. Besides, it’s not as though Gabriel doesn’t see the attraction. Humans, in general, are shitty. But some of them, the Winchesters in particular, are pretty damn decent. Hell, downright loveable, in a giant-moose-with-an-oversized-heart kinda way. Too bad the kid’s apparently oblivious to flirting, because Gabriel is anything but subtle. Or maybe not. Maybe Sam just doesn’t trust him, and who could blame him?

Finding himself in the kitchen, Gabriel snaps his fingers, producing a caramel mochaccino complete with foam heart and a pile of pastries to go with it. Though not pretending to be the trickster anymore, since he cloned his vessel from Loki, Gabriel actually requires as much sugar as his ex-friend does. He loves sweets though, so that part’s good. Bad thing is, every time he eats he remembers how Loki betrayed him; sold him off to that Kentucky-fried b-hole. Just goes to show, you can’t trust anyone, not even your friends. Especially not your friends. Because they’re the ones with the ammunition to _really_ hurt you. Let your guard down for one moment, and *bam*; colonel chow. And Loki was someone he’d known forever. Sam and Dean… hell, he likes them and all, but he knows they owe him no loyalty. Not after the ways he’s dicked with ‘em. There’s no reason for them to offer him asylum, other than not letting him fall into the wrong hands again.

Sweets suddenly heavy in his stomach, he vanishes the leftovers, drains his cup, and wanders back through the bunker. Though not sure how, some time later Gabriel finds himself huddling in a corner of Sam’s room, arms hugging his knees to his chest, flashbacks of seven years of he-doesn’t-want-to-remember pummeling his mind and whimpers forcing past lips that feel sewn shut. A gentle voice coaxes him back from the past and as he’s eased out of his huddle, led to the bed, tucked under the covers and hugged against a broad chest, the voice continues murmuring.

“You’re ok; I got you. You’re safe now,” Sam croons, holding him protectively.

**Tease**

Gabriel blinks awake, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. He loves sleeping, but hasn’t indulged since moving into the bunker. Or in the past seven years, to be honest. Sure, there were times he’d been tortured enough, or was so low on grace, that he’d passed out, but never voluntarily. Not while in Asmodeus’s clutches. Or since, even though he’s already killed the guy. Having been nabbed in his sleep kinda put a damper on the whole enjoying-the-dreamscape thing. Yeah, surprise, angels dream. Or maybe it’s just him. Either way, he used to love him some post coital snuggle-naps. Now, even in one of the safest places on earth, Gabriel just doesn’t feel secure letting his guard down. So why is he waking up?

Gradually, last night comes back to him. Wandering alone in the bunker, eating himself into a panic attack; Gabriel doesn’t remember anything after falling into memories of torture and fear. But he’s awake now and hasn’t been attacked. Doesn’t feel injured. In fact, he feels better than he has in years. That suggests wherever he’s wound up, it’s been safe so far. There’s a firm body pressed against his side, someone’s arm over his stomach, and soft whispers of slow, deep breaths caressing his ear. Gabriel’s not sure he wants to know who it is. He’s as afraid it won’t be who he wants as he is that it will. Maybe it’s better to stare at the ceiling and pretend. Imagine it’s Sam’s warmth keeping him sane and in the present. But it’s probably not. Probably no one there at all. Hell, he could still be captive, passed out and dreaming. But he couldn’t even imagine this feeling of security back then. No, he’s in the bunker, and the body pressed against him belongs to the only person who makes him feel safe.

“Gabriel? You okay now?” Sam’s voice asks gently, as though Gabe’s a land mine that might explode via sound vibrations.

“Huh,” Gabe huffs in relief. “Months of trying to get into your bed, and all it took was a dissociative panic attack.”

“Yep, you’re ok now,” Sam states, shoving Gabriel out of bed and onto the floor.

“Damn, Sam. Such a cocktease,” Gabe replies, pulling himself onto his knees to look over the bed at the hunter. “Thank you, Sam,” he adds, serious for once as he takes Sam’s hand, squeezing in appreciation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I've mentioned it yet, but all of these one word bingos will be the 4th story of Blunt to the Point of Love, under the title Not the Worst Year Ever. So the title may change or be added to in the future. Still gotta write the third story first though hehe. Should be getting to that within a few months, time permitting. Next Monday's post should be my Gabriel Monthly Challenge story for February, and I'll have a Valentine's post up this Thursday. Hoping to get the first year of Heavenly Body wrapped up next, then after that either the timestamps for Forgotten Lies or part 3 of Blunt. So much writing hehehe.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and as always, Comments, Questions, Corrections and Suggestions welcome and encouraged :D


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